The Roaring Twenties
by raptoregg64
Summary: Set in the 1920s. Coricopat is a hard-working immigrant, who served in World War I. Jemima is the new girl working in Mr. M's speakeasy. What happens when they meet, and what will the introduction of a third player do to change their fates?
1. Chapter 1

**Hiyas, folks! As you might have guessed from the title, this fic is set in the 1920's! Specifically, it begins around 1925-26. Just to clear things up before you read, the Battle of the Piave River began June 15****th****, 1918. Also, I'd like to make a small dedication-**

**THIS FIC IS DEDICATED TO:**

**Ljuba- for being my most faithful reviewer. And offering to help me with the Italian. **

**Charlie Chaplin- for being one of the most famous actors in the 20's.**

**Louis Armstrong- for being a famous, jazz-player guy… in the 20's-50's! (Or something like that.)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Cats. It belongs to Andrew Lloyd Weber and Thomas Stearns Eliot. I also do not own the 20's, Louis Armstrong, Charlie Chaplin, Al Capone, or any other publicly recognized things.**

**P.S. You may want to have an online translator ready. Italian to English, to be specific. (Unless you know Italian.) Or you can just read the ending Author's Note- I'll be putting the translations at the end.**

**~RT~**

**Coricopat's POV**

_Gunshots sounded across the river. One of the Jellicles beside me fell to the ground, bleeding from a hole in his chest. Hands shaking, I pressed the trigger on my rifle, and winced at the kickback._

_That was the moment when everything started going wrong._

"_You'll never win- how could puny soldiers like you defeat the likes of us?" enemy voices taunted maliciously, floating across the river._

"_No," I whispered hoarsely. "I… I have to survive. I have to get back to Tanto, and Mother…"_

"_Pah!" the enemy voices shrieked. "We've already captured them. Killed them! You're all alone, Coricopat." It was true. All of the other Italian soldiers had suddenly disappeared, leaving me to face the Austro-Hungarian army by myself._

"_No!" I screamed. "No! NO! __NO!__"_

"Cori, wake up!" Tantomile commanded. "You need to get ready for work- quickly now!" I blinked to clear my thoughts, pushed the thin blanket off of me, and got up off the old couch. When my sister saw how frazzled I looked, her face softened.

"It's the nightmares again."

"Yeah…"

Ever since June 15th, 1918, I had been having nightmares. I had fought as a soldier in the Great War, though only towards the end. I saw two battles as a part of the _Ragazzi del '99- _the '99 Boys; men in the Italian army who were at least eighteen years old at the time. Of course, those two battles had to be the Battle of the Piave River and the Battle of Vittorio Veneto. I suppose that there weren't as many casualties in them as some of the other battles fought, but it was still enough to give me nightmares.

However, that was in the past. My present situation was that I lived in New York City, sharing a cramped apartment with my twin sister, and working as a laborer in a factory. It was a tough life, and I had been living it since 1922. Back then, I still thought that America was the Promised Land, a place where we'd be happy and healthy, not living in squalor and fighting to put food on the table. But, what can I say? _Va abbastanza bene per me. _

"Coricopat Rossi, _move it_ already! You'll be late if you wait any longer!" Tantomile snapped.

"I _know,_ Tanto! I'm just waking up!" I complained, pulling my coat on. "I'll see you later, okay?" She smiled softly.

"See you later, Cori. Try not to work _too_ hard, okay?" I nodded, hurrying out the door.

"Yes, Mother!"

**~RT~**

I came back home at six o'clock in the afternoon, thoroughly exhausted from working at an automobile factory. Groaning, I collapsed on the couch.

"Cori? Are you okay?" Tanto fussed, sitting next to me.

"Ow," I replied. Seeing her worried expression, I added, "Don't worry. I'm just tired. Really tired…"

"Are you sure that you should be working another shift?" my sister asked nervously. "You don't have to work two jobs a day, you know."

"You shouldn't be complaining," I mumbled. "I'm doing this for you, remember? You and Mom. You can open your restaurant, we can bring Mom over here, and I can find a different job. One where I don't have to worry about being fired if I have the flu…" She said something else, but I wasn't sure what. I had already fallen asleep.

**~RT~**

**Don't worry; the next chapter won't be as sad! I'm trying to stick with one character's POV per chapter in this fic. The next chapter will be in Jemima's POV, in case you're wondering. Feel free to poke holes in my Italian and history- I'm trying to keep it as factual as possible. Originally, I was going to have Cori flashback on being a soldier in the trenches, but then I found out that they didn't use trenches in the Battle of the Piave River, and I wasn't sure whether they did in the Battle of Vittorio Veneto or not…**

_**Va abbastanza bene per me- **_**It's good enough for me… or something like that… (thank you for helping with the Italian, Ljuba!)**

_**Ragazzi del '99- **_**the '99 Boys. They were a division (or something like that… I'm not good with military terminology) of the Italian army in World War I (I think.) If I got this right, they were all around eighteen years old, and they fought in the Battle of the Piave.**

**More Reviews/Concrit= Happier Me= Faster Update= Happier You= More Reviews/Concrit!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hiyas, folks! Erm… I've got nothing to say right now but "enjoy!"**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Cats.**

**~RT~**

**Jemima's POV**

I took a deep breath, gagging slightly on the horrid taste of the city air. It was my first day in New York City, and I still hadn't adjusted from being in the country to being in the metropolis. My parents, Demeter and Munkustrap, owned a farm in Oklahoma, where I was raised with my sister, Sillabub. It had been a good life, but I was craving something different. Something where I had more to do than feed the chickens and water the crops… something that, in my opinion, could be found in New York.

I had heard that I could get a job at a store called the Cat's Meow, located close to Broadway Avenue. I didn't have any clue what _type_ of shop it was, but it was worth a try, right? After all, I needed work.

"Hello?" I called quietly, pushing open the door to the Cat's Meow. A pure white queen sat at the cashier's desk, scribbling down some notes on a piece of paper.

"You want to apply for a job, don't you?" she asked flatly. I nodded.

"I know I don't look like much, but-"

"You sure don't!" the queen snorted in a very unladylike fashion. As I was about to retort, another Jellicle walked into the room- this one a queen with vibrant red fur, who wearing a rather short dress in bright, emerald green.

"I think she's got potential," the newcomer declared after glancing at me.

"Yes, Bomba," the secretary replied meekly. The scarlet queen- Bomba, I presumed- smiled at her.

"This, Vicky, is why _I'm_ the talent scout and _you're_ the secretary!" Turning back to me, she added, "C'mon, hun, let's get you started."

"But I haven't even listed my credentials yet!" I complained as she dragged me into a back room. I hadn't gone to those fancy-shmancy accounting classes for nothing!

Bomba laughed, pulling open the curtain to reveal a large parlor, where several queens were applying makeup to each other.

"You don't know what this place _really_ is, do you?" she asked, all of the heads in the room turning towards me.

"Oh, ain't she just the bee's knees!" a cream-colored queen squealed excitedly, her thick Southern accent showing clearly.

"Calm down, Etcie; you'd think that Tugger'd just waltzed on in here, with the way you're acting!" another queen joked.

"Girls, girls, calm down," Bomba soothed. "She- what's your name, hun?"

"I'm Jemima."

"Jemima hasn't agreed to sign up yet. She doesn't even know what she's signing up for!"

"I'll give you a hint," a chocolate brown queen said smoothly. "It's a place where patrons have to be quiet and _speak easy._" I blinked.

"It's a speakeasy, isn't it?"

"Yep!" the Southern queen- Etcie- exclaimed cheerfully. "Ain't you smart?"

"I received an accountant's degree from the University of Oklahoma; I didn't get that by being stupid," I grumbled under my breath.

"So, who wants to get Jemmie dolled up for tonight? Assuming that you agree to work here?" Bomba questioned, looking at me.

"Alright," I replied. "I do need a job…"

"Great!" Bomba cheered. "Etcie, I'll let you dress her up. I've got an appointment with Mr. M. He's playing poker in a bit, and he needs me to bring him luck. Bye, gals!" She sauntered off flirtatiously without another word.

"Take a seat over here, Mima," Etcie commanded, gesturing to a chair in front of a mirror. I cautiously took a seat as she proceeded to yank my head backward into a bucket of water… repeatedly.

"What-" There was a yank. "-are-" Another yank. "-you doing?" I spluttered in between dips.

"Makin' your hair wet; it's easier to cut that way. Now relax… and keep your mouth and eyes shut so you don't get any water in 'em!" I obeyed, scrunching my face up. Once my head fur was suitably soaked, she went at my long hair with a pair of scissors. I became slightly worried as the weight on my scalp became lighter… and lighter… and lighter… was this queen cutting _all_ my hair off?

Apparently not. When she _finally_ swiveled the chair back around to face the mirror, I noticed that I had received a "bob cut." It actually looked nice on me!

"Don't you look pretty?" Etcie cooed, managing to refrain from saying "ain't."

"It definitely won't take as long for my hair to dry," I commented. Etcie grinned at me.

"Now let's get you some new clothes… after that, you can get to work!"

**~RT~**

**Sorry about it being so short! I couldn't really think of anything else to say… and I'm sorry for the wait between updates! I've been really busy, and I've had something that's WORSE than Writer's Block! I know **_**exactly**_** what I want to happen in all my stories, but I have absolutely no idea how to type it out… ah, well. Maybe it'll come back to me soon… *crosses fingers* And I know that being a flapper wasn't technically a job… but I don't care! Artistic license, right?**

**More Reviews/Concrit= Happier Me= Faster Updates= Happier You= More Reviews/Concrit**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own Cats. It belongs to Thomas Stearns Eliot and Andrew Lloyd Weber.**

**~RT~**

**Coricopat's POV**

"Tumble, I'm tired, please just let me go home," I begged as my coworker, a brown-and-white tom of Polish blood named Tumblebrutus, dragged me off after work on Saturday.

"No way, Cori," he replied firmly. "You always go home and _sleep _after work, and then you go and work some more! That's no way to live. Today, my friend, I shall teach you about a grand little thing I like to call 'fun.'"

"_Tu sei la persona più irritante che io abbia mai incontrato nella mia vita,"_ I snapped in Italian, knowing that he couldn't understand me. I wouldn't have dared to say it otherwise… Tumble had a nasty temper at times.

"Stop speaking gobbledygook," he commanded, stopping in front of a small clothing shop. Its sign read "The Cat's Meow."

"We're going shopping for _clothes?"_ I snarled, believing this to be a total waste of time.

"No, idiot." At my doubtful look, Tumble sighed and added, "Just come inside, okay, Cori?" I grumbled slightly, but followed him into a decent sized ballroom, filled with the mixed scents of perfume, cigar smoke, and alcohol. It was the last scent, and the many Jellicles drinking various liquors, that alerted me to where we were.

"Are you _crazy, _Tumble?" I hissed under my breath, grabbing his shoulder. "I don't want to get involved with anything illegal! I could be deported, if the cops found out!" He rolled his eyes.

"You won't be deported just for coming to a speakeasy, Cori, so relax." He pushed me into a chair. "Have something to drink. Flirt with someone…" The patched tom looked over at a cream-colored queen. "…which is exactly what I'm going to go and do." He walked away, leaving me alone.

"Great," I moaned, putting my head in my hands. "I'm tired, I'm thirsty, and I want to go home…" One of the many queens loitering around overheard and came over.

"Where _is_ home for you?" she asked, cocking her head to the side. "You don't sound like you're from around here."

"Neither do you," I pointed out. She grinned.

"Smarty-pants. Mind if I sit down?"

"Go ahead." She pulled a chair up to the table, and sat down. While she did so, I had a better chance to take a look at her.

She seemed to have kinda… calico-patterned fur, and she was wearing a short, blue dress, which she kept fiddling with as though she wanted to pull it down. She nearly did, then thought better of it. She also had a (apparently new) bob cut, and was wearing a little bit of eyeliner. Not nearly as much makeup as the other queens.

"So…" she began. "You're Italian?" I nodded.

"And you're American," I replied, being Coricopat the ever-so-witty. She laughed.

"Yeah. My name's Jemima, Oklahoma farm-girl extraordinaire," she replied, holding out her hand. I shook her hand politely.

"I'm Coricopat, veteran and laborer." Why in Heaviside did I say _that?_

Jemima smiled at me.

"Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Coricopat. Waiter!" she called, standing up. A waiter came over. "Can you get us something to drink? I'll have a soda… uh, soda pop, and he'll have…" She turned to me. "What do you want to drink, Cori? Do you mind if I call you that?"

"I don't mind. And a soda's fine…" Jemima smiled, and turned towards the waiter.

"Two sodas, please. And let me pick up the tab." I started to complain, but was quickly cut off.

"Cori, I'm a working woman earning a good salary… uh, even though I only started yesterday. You look as though you're starving. At least let me treat you to a meal _once."_ I tried to pout, and failed. I did need to eat.

"You're not like a regular flapper," I commented. She smiled.

"I know. I'm much more amazing."

"And humble, too!" We laughed… how long had it been since I last laughed?

We ended up talking for a long time- at least, until Tumble came back and told me it was time to go.

"See? Didn't you have fun?" he said, poking me in the shoulder as we left. I smiled.

"Yeah, I did."

"And you met a pretty queen, too!"

"Yeah, I did."

"And you're going to ask her out the next chance you get!"

"Yeah, I- wait, _what?"_

"C'mon, Corico, how long has it last been since you had a girlfriend?" I blushed and looked down.

"My point exactly," Tumble conceded, and was silent the rest of the way home.

**~RT~**

**Alright, it was kinda short, but I liked it! But be warned: the story gets darker later on, with the appearance of Mr. M…**

**Please, **_**please**_** go to my profile and vote in the poll, if you haven't already. I keep on forgetting to remind people, and I want to have another project to do once Ghost Whispers is finished (which I also beg you to go and read… and review, of course! ****) I hope you enjoyed!**

**More Reviews/Concrit= Happier Me= Faster Update= Happier You= More Reviews/Concrit**

**Tu sei la persona più irritante che io abbia mai incontrato nella mia vita**** = You are the most irritating person I have ever met in my entire life.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: This shall be my last disclaimer for this story: I DO NOT OWN CATS. Oh, and I don't own the Tapioca, either. It's from Thoroughly Modern Millie.**

**~RT~**

**Jemima's POV**

I looked discreetly around the speakeasy. It was a Saturday night, exactly one month after I had met Coricopat. I had been hoping that he'd come back to see me, but, every single week, I was disappointed.

"Hey, Mima?" Etcie asked, waving a hand in front of my face. I snapped back into reality, looking at her.

"Yeah?" She pointed to over to a table where a group of toms were sitting, chatting- or, rather, discussing Bomba, who had just sauntered by.

"Isn't that the fella you were talking to however-long ago?" I followed her line of sight, and, lo and behold, there he was- Coricopat, that is. His expression seemed to be varying between confused, nauseous, and drop-dead exhausted, but that was okay. He was there, and that was what counted!

"Go talk to him!" the Southern queen urged, shoving me in his direction.

"Okay, okay! Jeeze…" I grumbled, walking over and putting a smile on my face. The conversation stopped as I neared the table.

"Hello, beautiful," one of the toms purred, standing up and taking my hand. "How can Sir Pouncival be of assistance to you today?" A black-and-white tom snorted.

"If he's a Sir, I'm Woodrow Wilson!" He smiled charmingly and took my other hand. "But I sure ain't Wilson! The name's Alonzo, kitten. What's a pretty dame like you doing in a place like this?"

I became more and more frustrated as most of the other toms tried to flirt with me in a similar manner.

_I just want to talk to Cori!_ I screamed mentally. Of course, he was the only one who hadn't spoken up.

"Leave her alone," a familiar voice demanded at last, speaking softly but noticeably. Alonzo and Pouncival glanced over in the Italian tom's direction.

"What, is she your gal, Cori?" they teased.

"No," he replied calmly, standing up. "But it's clear that she doesn't want to be bothered. Please leave her alone." They raised their hands and took their seats. I shot a look of thanks in his direction.

As the others resumed their discussion, I walked up to my "savior."

"Would you like to dance?" I asked bluntly. He looked slightly surprised.

"Uh… sure, yeah." I smiled lightly, taking him by the hand.

"I presume you know the Charleston?" I inquired.

"No, not really," Cori replied apologetically.

"The Lindy Hop?"

"No…"

"What about the Flea Hop?"

"I know how to waltz, tango, and foxtrot, and that's about it," he admitted. I grinned.

"Then let's make up a dance!" He looked at me quizzically, but a smile slowly spread across his face.

"Sure! But it'll need a name, of course. What did you have for dinner?" I thought about it for a moment.

"Franks." I snapped my arms, trying it out. "Franks, franks! Franks, franks! Hm… no. What did you have for dinner, Cori?"

"A sandwich…" I tried doing a different dance.

"Sandwich! Sand-wich! Sandwich, sandwich! No, that doesn't really do it for me. Hm… let's see… what else did you have for dinner?"

"Uh… I had some water."

"And?"

"That's it." I gaped at him.

"Aren't you hungry?"

"Maybe a little bit," he admitted. "But food can wait. What else did you have for dinner?"

"I had tapioca for dessert," I offered. He tapped his foot in time with the music thoughtfully.

"Tapioca…" Cori smiled, extending a hand. "Join me in the Tapioca?" I grinned, taking his hand.

"Sure!" As we tapped our feet, pivoting slightly, I decided that we needed lyrics to go with it.

"Everybody tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tapioca," I sang. Then I began doing the "frank" move- slapping my arms to my sides.

"Everybody, slap, slap, slap, slap, slap, slap, slapioca!" Cori grinned, singing with me.

"If ya got the dap, dap, dap-dap-dappier flappers flap-flap-flappier!

Everyone is happier when the do the tap tapioca.

When they do the flap flapioca." By now, we had added more parts to the dance, and some of the other patrons joined in.

"Tap, tap, tap, tapioca,

Slap, slap, slap, slapioca

Tap, tap, tap, tapioca!" Cori broke away from me, taking over the singing.

"Let's pretend we've got a bowl, we're gonna have some sport. Ha!

Add trumpled licks and a rag-time beat, let's say about a quart. Yeah!

Ya stir and stir it with your knee, adding a bump or two.

Ya heat it, mash it, beat it, smash it, if there's a lump or two!

Don't let the temperature drop to many degrees," he sang, coming back to my side and dancing with me.

"Or you'll wind up with what is called the frozen tapioca freeze!" Once again, I sang with him.

"Everybody, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap tapioca, everybody freeze!" All the dancers froze in position for a moment, before starting up again.

"Slap, slap, slap, slap, slap, slap slapioca everybody freeze!" We stopped dancing for a few seconds, then started all over again, continuing into the night.

**~RT~**

Coricopat and I pulled away from the body of dancers, laughing. We were both completely out of breath.

"That was so much fun," I giggled. He grinned at me- it was a slightly awkward grin, as if he was still getting used to the prospect of smiling.

"Definitely," he replied. We were silent for a few moments, when I asked,

"Hey, Cori? You're Italian, right?"

"Yes…"

"I don't believe you," I teased.

"Why not?"

"Because I've never heard you speak Italian. Say something in your native language, and I'll believe that you're really from Italy." He rolled his eyes, although he was smiling.

"_Vuoi uscire con me al cinema domani sera? _Will you go out with me to the movies tomorrow night?" Cori asked, taking my hand.

"I still don't believe you."

"What?" I smiled impishly.

"Teach me how to say 'Of course!'"

**~RT~**

**So? Did you like it?**

**I think that updates will be a bit more frequent now (my apologies for the wait, by the way) since I believe that I've gotten rid of my Writer's Block for this story! For a while, at least…**

**More Reviews= Happier Me= Faster Update= Happier You= More Reviews!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Just to clear things up, this is set two weeks-a month after the previous chapter. Things start getting darker, starting with this chapter…**

**~RT~**

**Coricopat's POV**

I whistled happily as I walked home from work. Life had been treating me comparatively well for the past few weeks. I had a queenfriend. I wasn't having as many nightmares. I wasn't having too much trouble at work…

Of course, good things never last.

"_Help me!" _a queen screamed, jolting me out of my daydreams. I immediately looked to the side; her voice seemed to be coming from a nearby alley.

"_Help me! Plea-" _A dull, squelching noise that I knew all too well cut off her cries.

**~RT~**

_I crouched slightly, my eyes scanning the buildings in the city of Vittorio Veneto. I had positioned myself in an alley, where there hopefully wouldn't be too much fighting._

_I didn't notice the other soldier sneaking up behind me until he was breathing down my neck._

**~RT~**

I hurriedly ran to the alley, yelling at the thugs I saw. But they looked too sophisticated for thugs… they must have been gangsters, then. Like Al Capone.

A ginger tom turned angrily towards me, and I faltered slightly as my foot hit something. I looked down, into the cold eyes of the queen's corpse.

**~RT~**

_I span around quickly, drawing the small knife that I kept on me at all times. The soldier raised his own knife to attack. My arm sprang forward of my own accord, the blade entering his stomach. He lifted his pained gaze to meet mine._

"_Sada, to je samo okrutna. __Ostavljajući mene umrijeti. Zašto ne samo završiti posao, patetičan osoba?" he asked, speaking in Croatian. I understood enough of it to realize that he was calling me a coward, and asking me to kill him to spare his suffering._

"_I žao. Ja to ne mogu ..." I replied in somewhat broken Croatian. I turned away from the dying soldier, tears threatening to spill over my eyes._

"_Slabić," he spat as I ran. I couldn't bring myself to reply._

**~RT~**

The next thing I knew, the gangsters' leader had me pressed against a wall, holding me up by my throat.

"Let me go!" I screamed, kicking at him. He expertly sidestepped my legs, and tightened his grip on my throat, cutting off some of my air supply.

"You want to live, don't you, Coricopat?" he asked softly. His voice wasn't the gruff tone that I had expected- it was calm, collected. Suave. He practically reeked of power and money.

I nodded without wondering how he knew my name.

"Then you'll pay me ten grand by the end of the year. And you won't tell the police about anything you saw here." I gulped.

"I- I'm a laborer! How am I supposed to get ten thousand dollars by then?" He smiled wickedly.

"Why should I care? It's your problem."

"Well… aren't you supposed to be paying _me_ to keep quiet?" I asked.

"I can do whatever I want." He leaned closer. "And here's a warning to you- if you don't meet my terms, I shall kill everyone you hold dear. And I mean _everyone._ I know everything about every single Jellicle in this city- I know where you live. I know where you precious queenfriend, Jemima Smith, lives. I know where your mother lives- Riolo Terme, in the Ravenna Province of Emilia-Romagna, Italy. I know that she moved there after your father's death at the hands of the Blackshirts, for 'political misdeeds.'" He watched with a kind of bored interest as tears streaked down my face at the mention of my father.

_You're a soldier, Coricopat! Stop crying!_ a tiny voice inside me protested.

"Believe me, Coricopat Rossi- if he was alive, I would kill him, too." With that, he let go of my throat, and I slumped to the ground.

When I looked up, he and his henchcats were gone, with only a large _HP_ that was painted in blood- the queen's, I realized with a nauseas lurch- marking that they had ever been there.

"Oh, Bast…" I groaned, looking up at Heaviside. "What have I gotten myself into?"

**~RT~**

**I feel kinda sorry for that queen…**

**Oh, and I've decided that, instead of starting a new fic once Ghost Whispers has finished (which may take a while, because I'm still trying to get rid of this accursed Writer's Block) I'll continue one of my oneshots. So I've put up a poll for you to decide on which one I should continue.**

**I think I'm getting over my Writer's Block with Battle of the Bands, at least, so you can expect and update from that… well, not fairly soon, but hopefully soon enough. **

**I'm not terribly happy with how this chapter turned out… it was a bit too fast-paced for my liking, but I can't think of anything to slow it down. Hmph.**

**More Reviews= Happier Me= Faster Update= Happier You= More Reviews!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hi, guys! These next five chappies or so are all dedicated to NyokaDelFanfiction, for giving me the ideas for them! The next three chapters all overlap time-wise, by the way.**

**Enjoy!**

**~RT~**

**Coricopat's POV**

"Tanto?" I called, walking through the door. I just wanted to collapse on the sofa and sit there for a while, but I wouldn't let the exhaustion from my third shift at work get to me.

"Tanto?" I repeated, going into the bedroom. Then I remembered that she was at the tailor's shop, and went to grab my coat. Maybe Jemima would be at the Cat's Meow- it was always nice to see her…

**~RT~**

"Mima's not here, Cori," Cetty told me when I asked her. "She went home… she said that you had phoned her? Something about going to the park?"

"Huh?" Now _that_ was confusing. I hadn't spoken to Jemima at all that day…

The cream-colored queen looked at me.

"Are you all right, Cori?" she asked curiously. "It seems like you've had the heebie jeebies for months now- Mima's been worried about you-"

She was cut off as the front door to the "clothing shop" slammed open. I froze as I heard my name called.

"We're looking for a Mr. Coricopat Rossi," a commanding voice intoned. "We have reason to believe that he is hiding here."

"Why should I tell you where Mr. Rossi is?" the secretary, Victoria, drawled.

"Because he's under arrest for the kidnappings of Tantomile Rossi and Jemima Smith," the voice- a tom's- snapped.

Etcetera stared at me with wide-eyed fear, and the other patrons slowly backed away.

"Cori…" she whispered shakily. "You… you…"

The door to the parlor crashed open, and Vicky pointed to me.

"That's him," she told the police officers, who immediately swarmed around me.

"What? I didn't do it!" I yelled. "Cetty will tell you- I was just asking her where Jemi was!"

The Southern queen slowly shook her head.

"She said that you had called," she stated slowly. "Mima told me that you wanted to meet her somewhere."

"I didn't!" I cried, trying to break free of the officer's grip. "I haven't spoken to her at all! Please, Cetty, you have to believe me-"

"Coricopat Rossi," my captor uttered menacingly, pulling my hands behind my back and shackling them together. "You are under arrest."

**~RT~**

"Not guilty!" I repeated urgently, my grasp of the English language slipping as I became more and more agitated. "Uh-uh! _Not guilty!"_

My interrogator continued to shine his flashlight into my eyes. I could hardly see what he looked like, but was too terrified to care.

"Where are they?" he questioned forcefully. "Where are you keeping them?"

"_Io non l'ho fatto! Io non sono colpevole! Per favore, devi credermi, io non sono colpevole! Perché non puoi capire che io non li rapiscono? Io non appartengo a questo posto! Perché io li rapiscono? Quale sarebbe il punto di essere in questo? Per favore, signor poliziotto, devo essere onesto!" _I babbled in Italian, despite knowing that he couldn't understand me.

"Speak in English," he snarled, slapping me across the face.

"_Not guilty!"_ I screamed.

"Victor, is everything alright?" another officer asked, poking his head through the door.

"No!" the tom torturing me- Victor, I presumed- growled. "He won't give me any information."

"_Sta cercando di farmi dire che sono colpevole, ma non lo sono!"_ I cried to the new policeman. Maybe he would believe me...

"A night in the cells might convince him to talk," the newcomer said, glancing at me.

Apparently not.

**~RT~**

"You 'ave one phone call," the warden- a tiger-striped tabby- told me, leading me over to a telephone. My fingers immediately dialed my mother's number, despite the fact that she probably wouldn't be able to help me. The warden backed away out of the room, indicating that I only had five minutes before I would have to hang up.

I held the earpiece up, waiting, but when a voice spoke it wasn't my mother's.

"Hello, Coricopat," a smooth, suave voice said pleasantly.

"Macavity," I hissed, shocked. "Where is my mom? Where are Jemi and Tanto?"

He chuckled darkly.

"So many questions, kid."

"Answer me!"

"I did."

"Answer the questions!"

"Not yet, I won't," Macavity purred, and I could almost hear him smirking. "But I'll help you get out, and I'll assist you in finding me."

"Why?"

"I'm not going to answer that now, Rossi. Can't you listen?"

"I can listen," I replied grumpily.

"Good. Do so- carefully." He began to recite a list of instructions, speaking quickly but precisely. "Once you get out, go to the train station. Dodge the coppers on your way. There should be a black Rolls-Royce Phantom there waiting for you, with a silver tabby in it." My eyes widened. Phantoms were _expensive_- but I didn't ask why he was spending so much money on me. "Get into the car. There will be more instructions later on. You got that?"

"Yes, but-"

There was a _click_ as the line was disconnected.

**~RT~**

**Finally! A new chapter! I hope you enjoyed it- the next one will be from a new charrie's POV. ;)**

_**Io non l'ho fatto! Io non sono colpevole! Per favore, devi credermi, io non sono colpevole! Perché non puoi capire che io non li rapiscono? Io non appartengo a questo posto! Perché io li rapiscono? Quale sarebbe il punto di essere in questo? Per favore, signor poliziotto, devo essere onesto!- **_**I did not do it! I'm not guilty! Please believe me, I'm not guilty! Why can't you see that I did not kidnap them? I do not belong here! Why would I kidnap them? What would the point of that be? Please, Mr. Policeman, I'm telling the truth! ****(Or something like that.)**

_**Sta cercando di farmi dire che sono colpevole, ma non lo sono!- **_**He's trying to make me say that I'm guilty, but I'm not!**

**More Reviews= Happier Me= Faster Update= Happier You= More Reviews!**


	7. Chapter 7

**This chapter is dedicated to three people: NyokaDelFanfiction, Eraman, and Felixfeles. The last two are because they guessed the newest character correctly. ;)**

**~RT~**

**Munkustrap's POV**

"Honey, I'm home," I called, walking through the door of our small farmhouse. I waited a moment for a reply, but I couldn't hear anything other than the usual livestock noises coming from the back.

"Honey?" I repeated, carefully taking my coat off and hanging it up on the coat rack. "Deme? Silla?"

I frowned- I couldn't hear my wife or daughter's voices anywhere. Maybe they were outside.

"Deme? Sweetheart? Silla, darling, where are you?"

I ambled around the side, but there was nobody in the vegetable garden. A quick check at the barn proved that they weren't there, either.

"Maybe they left a note to say where they were going," I mused, heading back inside.

_Tring! Tring!_ I quickly rushed over to the phone, hoping that it would be Demeter.

"Hello, this is the Smith residence," I stated, holding the transmitter up to my ear.

"Hello, Munkustrap," a tom's voice purred. It sounded vaguely familiar, but I couldn't quite place where I had heard it before.

"Who is this speaking?" I questioned, frowning slightly.

"I'm sorry, Munky, but that's the wrong question to ask."

"What do you mean? And how do you know my name?" The tom responded with a question of his own.

"You're not doing very well at asking the right questions, are you? Why not try 'Where are Demeter and Sillabub?'"

"Where are Demeter and Sillabub?" I inquired, confused.

"Why, they're with me, of course! Just like your precious Jemima."

"But… how? Jemi's in New York right now…"

"Not anymore. She's spending some… ah… _quality time_ with her family. You'll be coming to meet her, but first I need you to pick up the last guest. After all, it _is_ his party. Don't tell him though, Munky- it's a surprise." I blinked at the stream of words he had thrown at me.

"Who's this… guest… I'm supposed to pick up?"

"Why, I'm sure you've heard about him- he _is_ your daughter's tomfriend."

"_What? None _of my daughters are dating anybody!" I sputtered.

"You mean your darling Jemima hasn't told you about him yet?" the tom sneered. "I'm not surprised- he's a laborer. Italian immigrant- goes by the name of Coricopat Rossi. Oh, and he's currently on the lam."

"_My daughter's seeing a__** criminal**__?"_

"Well, he didn't actually do anything wrong, so calm down."

"But… why else would he be in jail? Or escaping from it?"

"Because I framed him for the kidnapping of his sister, and your daughter."

"What- but-"

"You didn't think that they'd come to me _willingly, _did you?" the tom said, laughing maliciously. "Everlasting Cat, Munkustrap, I actually thought you were _smart!_" He chuckled for a moment before stopping. "I don't think that you need to know anything else about Mr. Rossi from me. He can tell you more about himself when you meet him."

I stayed silent, waiting for him to continue.

"Look outside, Munkustrap," the voice told me persuasively. "What do you see?" Frowning, I did as he told me.

"I see our mailbox… Betsy the cow… Silla's flower garden, and- wait, why on earth is there a Phantom parked in my driveway?"

"It's the car you'll be driving to go and fetch Rossi. I figured that you would need a nice one, seeing that he's all the way in New York."

"… you expect me to drive all the way to _New York?_ You must be crazy!"

"You only just realized that now?" He seemed to sigh slightly, before giving me more directions. "Drive to Manhattan. Park the car at the train station there. You can expect someone to jump into the car- the rest of your instructions will come after that."

"Why should I listen to you?"

"Isn't it obvious, Munkustrap? If you don't do as I say, I'll kill your family."

**~RT~**

I sighed, one hand resting lazily on the wheel of "my" new Phantom. I had been sitting in the car for hours now, waiting for this "Coricopat" person to show up.

"_Gatto Eterno, aiuto!" _some tom screamed, running into the station. People turned to stare at him as he bounded towards me, terror-stricken. My eyes widened as he opened the door to the Phantom, jumped in, and ordered for me to-

"_Go!"_

"Why should I?" I asked sullenly, before having an idea. "Are you the tom I spoke to on the phone?"

"No!" he cried, glancing over his shoulder worriedly. "I- eh- _qual è la parola?" _He seemed to quickly change what he was about to say. _ "Il mio nome è Coricopat! _The- the _poliziotti,_ they are chasing me! Not guilty!" He turned back to look at me. _"Aiuto!_ Go! Drive! _Ora!"_

I blinked at the babbling tom, trying to understand the mixture of Italian and English.

_Wait a minute, _I realized. _Italian and English... and something about Corico-_

The burst of gunfire that came shooting through the window convinced me to do as he said and drive.

**~RT~**

**Now for the translations!**

_**Gatto Eterno, aiuto!- **_**Everlasting Cat, help!**

_**... qual è la parola?- **_**... what is the word?**

_**Il mio nome è Coricopat!-**_** My name is Coricopat!**

_**Poliziotti-**_**policemen**

_**Ora!- **_**Now!**

**I had a lot of fun writing Cori's broken English. :D Man, I'm sure glad that I don't forget English when I'm scared... then again, it **_**is**_** my first language, and I'm not terribly bilingual (thank you, Google Translate, for providing his Italian) so...**

**I hope you liked it! Next up is Jemi- we'll finally see what's happened to her. ;)**

**More Reviews= Happier Me= Faster Update= Happier You= More Reviews!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Jemima's POV**

"Hello?" I greeted as I picked up the phone. A few of my coworkers glanced towards me before turning back to their partners, jitterbugging across the dance floor to the lively music.

"Hello, Jemima," a tom's voice purred. "Do not say anything until I tell you to."

I blinked, confused. I started to say "Alright" but stopped myself in time, tapping a foot impatiently on the rich, red carpet of the parlor.

"Say, 'Oh, hi, Cori! It's okay, don't worry about it,'" he commanded slowly. "And act natural, kid."

"Oh, hi, Cori!" I repeated, even more bamboozled. "It's okay, don't worry about it."

"Good, good… now say, 'Yes, Cori, I would love to meet you there.'"

I did as he asked, waiting for more instructions. Why was I even listening to this guy, anyway?

"Alright, Jemima," the tom began. "I want you to go to Central Park once I'm finished. Your beloved tomfriend will be there. Do not ask why I'm telling you this- just say, 'Bye, Cori. I'll see you there.' After hanging up, tell one of your friends that you're going to the park with Mister Rossi. Got that? No, wait, don't answer. Simply do as I asked."

"Bye, Cori," I mumbled. "I'll see you there." With that, I hung up.

Something was decidedly fishy about all this…

**~RT~**

"Coricopat?" I called, pulling my fur coat closer around me. The only problem with new fashions was that the short hemlines certainly left a queen's legs open to the cold, November air.

I frowned slightly, walking across the brittle, browned grass. Yellow, red, and orange leaves fluttered down around me, some falling onto the lake nearby and disturbing the water's surface. I could see the tops of the skyscrapers enclosing the park, seeming to either protect or trap the people nearby. It appeared to be an idyllic, beautiful setting.

I turned around when I heard approaching footsteps- a well-dressed ginger tom was walking towards me, hat in hand and cigar clamped between his teeth.

"Hello, Jemima," he greeted smoothly, exhaling smoke. He looked almost like a fireball, what with the bright red fur and the smoldering cigar…

"Hello, sir," I replied politely. "May I ask how you know my name?"

He chuckled darkly.

"Why, I know your name because you work for me, of course. You a_re_ one of the girls at the Cat's Meow, are you not?" He raised an eyebrow, and I nodded.

"Yes, I am, sir. But I don't believe that I've ever seen you before."

"You haven't," he replied simply. "I have seen you, however, and I have seen your tomfriend, Mister Rossi. You are looking for him, are you not?"

I nodded again.

"Yes, sir. Do you know where he is, by any chance?"

"Of course I do." He extended an arm, placing his fedora back onto his head. "Will you take a walk with me?"

"Alright," I said slowly- his tone indicated that he wouldn't take "No" for an answer. I gingerly took his arm, and we began to walk.

"Do you believe that Mister Rossi loves you, Jemima?" he asked nonchalantly as we strolled past trees painted in the colors of the sunset.

"Of course," I replied defensively. "And I love him."

"Would he come for you if anything were to happen to you?" he questioned, his amber eyes glancing at me sidelong.

"I believe so, yes."

A slow smile spread across his face, and I had a sinking feeling in my stomach.

"What is your name, sir?" I inquired hesitantly after a short period of silence.

"My name-" He paused for a moment, appearing to mull it over, "- is Macavity."

I gasped- I recognized that name- before being hit in the back of the head and blacking out.

**~RT~**

"Where am I?" I groaned as I came to.

"I don't know," a vaguely familiar-sounding voice whispered in reply. I blinked, and, at first, thought that Coricopat had started cross-dressing. A few seconds later, I realized that the silver queen standing in front of me was actually his twin sister, Tantomile.

"Tanto? What are you doing here? What happened?" My questions grew more and more frantic until she raised a finger, shushing me.

"We've been kidnapped," she replied softly, before moving to an older, black and white queen.

"_Madre, questo è Jemima. Lei è la ragazza che è stata datazione Coricopat,"_ she told the queen in Italian, gesturing to me. "Jemima, this is my mother, Selene."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, ma'm, although I wish it could have been under better circumstances," I stated civilly. She looked confused.

"Mother doesn't speak English," Tantomile explained before translating my sentence into Italian.

"Oh..." I said softly.

We didn't speak much after that- the silver tabby queen didn't know the answers to most of my questions, and I didn't know the answers to most of hers. As such, I had a good amount of time to observe everything- not that there was much to observe. We were situated in a fairly large room, with unpainted, concrete walls, and a stone floor. Wooden crates were stacked haphazardly in the corners, and had such a thick layer of dust and cobwebs on them that I had no desire to pull one over to use as a seat. It would probably collapse under me, anyway- they all looked fairly rotten and moldy. Ugh.

Anyway, once I had finished my survey of the room, I leaned my head against the wall and tried to go to sleep.

**~RT~**

**I was going to make this chapter longer, but then I forgot what else I was going to write and couldn't remember it...**

**I've been trying to add more description into my writing. Could you tell?**

**Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it! **

_**Madre, questo è Jemima. Lei è la ragazza che è stata datazione Coricopat-**_** Mother, this is Jemima. She is the girl who has been dating Coricopat.**

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